Past Life
by kaitlyn15
Summary: What happens when Natalie is held captive by the Merovingian? How will she deal with the uglyness of her past that resurfaces? And how will she keep her sanity dealing with the Mero?
1. Chapter 1

_Natalie is a new addition to the Neb, recruited to help take down the Merovingian, who has become far too powerful to tolerate. So what happens when things get out of hand and Natalie finds herself the Merovingian's prisoner?_

Chapter 1

With every panicked step I take pain shoots up my weary legs in quick flashes. The temptation to just give in now was almost overwhelming. But it was what they want and why they pursued me so relentlessly and why I will not let them win, not yet at least. I shake the thought from my mind the best I can but I know it will most likely resurface before this waking nightmare is over.

Bullets rip into the brick wall at my side. Fragments brake free and blind me. _Great_, just what I needed. I run on trying to clear my eyes and calm my nerves. My hands are trembling with a fun little cocktail of fear and adrenaline. I know I can't keep this up.  
My sight finally clears only leaving a faint stinging. I can now recognize my surroundings. An alleyway, wide and filthy. Above me close lines drape between widows waving their many colorful garments. I must be surrounded my apartment buildings. This is not necessarily bad thing. Although I do not take joy in endangering innocent people, apartment buildings have elevators, and roof tops that could help me get right the hell out of here, which presently is my number one priority, that and the whole not dieing thing.

I search for a door and I find one. Rusty, old, and unlocked, leading me up a stairwell and into a small hallway. The hall is long, narrow, and colored a putrid green. Apartment doors line the walls and become a blur as I sprint past them. My attention is now only focused on the elevator doors ahead.

I reach the cold metallic doors just as they slowly open to expel an elderly woman in a brown trench coat. She gasps dramatically and troughs herself to the wall clenching her chest, a fear stricken look on her face. I run past her and into the empty box. The woman gapes at me through the doors. She jumps as the doors behind her down the hallway slam open. I press the elevator button franticly; I'm growing a tad bit impatient.

Guns drawn they sprint down the dimly lit hallway. Three well built males, all clad in black, but not agents. I don't recognize them but I can tell their not assassins either.They are most likely body guards, descent ones, but body guard all the same. Faceless and expendable. This is why the Merovingian has sent them. Assassins are expensive, if he had truly wanted me dead he would have sent assassins, buts it's not his style. No doubt he'd like me alive so he can recite whatever long speech he's most likely prepared for me before he tortures and kills me in the worst way his twisted little mind could think of. All he's had is time to plot out how he'd like to dispose of me since I left.

The men take aim. The metallic doors inch closer and I draw my own weapon. They open fire before the old woman has time to scream. Disobeying orders most likely, as I am fairly surethe Mero wants me as alive and coherent for his little games. Luckily the old woman takes most of heat. The bullets rip into her and splatter blood inside the elevator only moments before the doors finally close  
.  
I collapse against the wall. My breath is ragged and thin. I am trying my best to catch it. My stomach feels like is has hit the ground as the elevator lifts me. As a child I loved that feeling. Now it is unsettling.

I straighten myself and face the doors. My face is damp with sweat. My finger gently touches the trigger in preparation of what ever these doors open to reveal. The elevator stops and the doors open. Light pours in and blinds me. I hesitate and know immediately that I will regret it. The cold barrel of a gun is pressed ageist my forehead.

"Drop the gun."

The words reverberate of the walls as if they were yelled, but they weren't. They were calmly spoken by an icy voice. I cooperate.

_Forgive my spelling, it really is horrendous so there's no reason to alert me to that.  
Please review, a love constructive criticism so that's more than welcome as well!_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

My bloodied, pale face is reflected back at me off the darkly tinted window of the car. My mouth waters and as a sickening tang of bile lingers in my mouth. I have overworked my self and my stomach is paying the price. I swallow the sour taste down and try to calm myself. My legs twitch as I mentally retrace my steps. Clearly entering the apartment was a mistake.  
I whish we would slow the hell down. The car turns sharply and I am thrown violently against the door. My head bumps the black window and bounces back slightly. I swear under my breath and rub the sting off the side of my head. I figer that there is no since in worrying now. At this point, I probably couldn't get out of this alive even if I tried.

We twist up and down roads at such a speed my already upset stomach cringes with every turn. It seems I might be here for a while so I trace my face with my fingertips and try to pull out the little slivers of glass and brick that have embedded themselves there. There are more slivers than I had anticipated. I look into the window again to inspect the damage. The right side of my face has suffered the most. Shallow, bloody holes crater my cheek. _Great_.

Suddenly the car stops. I wait patiently for my door to swing open and when it finally dose a large hairy hand raps itself around my upper arm and pulls me out gruffly. I fumble out into the light. I glance back to glare at the goon. I pay him no mind, he and his little counterpart don't intimidate me. I've seen a million of their type before. Well dressed, well built, think their tough because they've been employed to do the Merovingian's dirty work. As much as I would love to cave in both their heads with my boot I know enough to realize that they are most likely armed to the teeth so I behave myself.

One pushes me forward and I reluctantly obey his silent demand and walk forward. I don't recognize this place but I probably don't have to. We seem to be in the basement of the chateau. It's huge. It most likely runs the entire length of the château. Its mostly empty save a few boxes staked here and there. Concrete pillars are rowed for what seems like miles. The goon behind me has his sweaty hand clenched on my shoulder trying to directs me towards the silvery elevator in the distance.

We stand before it for only a few seconds before the doors part I am pushed forward into the large mirrored box. The goons enter and turn me around so that I face the doors. The fat one relishes my shoulder and I fight back the temptation to rub out the new ach that throbs there. We wait in a sticky silence for the mirrored doors to open. In the mean time I get to realize just how awful I look as the spotless mirrors reflect off each other and throw my image back at me a million times. I'm sure the Merovingian will be thrilled to see me in such a state.  
I glare at my self. My normally curly dark hair is plastered strait to my face with a mixture of blood and sweat. My left eye lid twitches with irritation.

I watch the glowing numbers intently. 28...29...30, we begin to slow and finally stop at 32. Floor 32, its not ringing any bells for me but it probably doesn't matter anyway. This place has changed so much that even if I did have some vague memory of my surroundings I couldn't make heads or tails of this place anyway, even if I was giving the opportunity to.

The doors slowly open and I am nudged forward.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I peel the nail polish off my fingernails leaving small chips of deep purple to litter the white marble floors. The cold air hitting my now bare nails is semi calming. After prowling the lavish and empty hallways of the château, I now find my self sitting in a large, pale room awaiting the Merovingian to grace me with his presents.

There is no doubt that the small door behind me is heavily guarded from the outside, so that pretty much dashes any chance I would have of escape. I don't know what this room is all about. The walls are so eerily white it seems that they belong more in a cheesy horror movie than a posh château. My stomach knots itself tightly which really is not helping my mood.

My thoughts wonder. I bet Morpheus is in for a few sleepless nights, depending on how long I remain here. He should be satisfied though, I have given him just what he's needed. Morpheus always said we had to infiltrate the château if we were ever going to make any real progress, and surprise! Here I am, waiting in this cold, freaky little room waiting for the Merovingian to show up and do what he dose best.The door behind me slowly opens. There is a rush of warm air then only cold again. I continue to pick at my nails as my head begins to throb.I know exactly who it is before I see him. His overpowering cologne and the sound of expensive shoe heels on marble precede him. He strides into my line of vision, his thin arms folded around his thin body.

The Merovingian leans against the wall and wrinkles his face in a sneer. Ipry my atteintion from my nailsand fold my arms in imitation. His sneer widens. There is a long silent pause as heinspects me.The Mero is finely dressed, as always, in a fitted black suit. His black hair is slicked and plastered to his head perfectly, not a single thin little hair out of place.  
I raise my eyebrows in annoyance, awaiting him to open his mouth and get it over with.  
"Natalie my dear…" Spits the Mero, with his voice full of obvious fake concern.  
"..Ver have you been."

I am now reminded of how much I hate his accent. It is sharp, mocking and further poisons his already spiteful words. I would take so much joy in ripping his sharp little tongue right out of his mouth.  
I sigh, and calmly say "What do you want?"

A slight chuckle bubbles up from his throat but makes it no further than that.  
"Well, that's a bit complicated and I really don't have the time to explain it all to you now, my dear, but I assure you all will be revealed"

God, I've forgotten just how cheesy he can be.

"But until that time, feel free to make yourself at home. I will have my boys escort you to your rooms"

The Merovingian pushes himself off the wall and steps toward me. Despite myself I tense. The Mero inches closer and with a clammy pale hand reaches and grabs a hold of my chin tightly. He turns my head slowly from side to side inspecting my gashed face.

"And clean yourself up, my dear, I want to introduce you to some clients of mine."

I wiggle my face from his grip and glare.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 

Four rooms. Comfy and warm, a far cry from the dank dungeons I had pictured when the Merovingian had mentioned my accommodations. As unsettling as the Merovingian's new hospitality is, I cant complain. I expected to be dead or worse by this time, and the Mero's recent unpredictability is an impressive change. I heave a sigh, clearly all these years apart have sharpened his skills and I cringe at the thought of how long he must have been fantasizing about all the horrible things he'd do to me once he managed to recapture me.

I wander my new, and hopefully temporary accommodations trying to shake the disturbing thought from my mind. A bathroom, bedroom, dressing room and living room make up my living space. Each room is warmly colored and densely furnished save the simple bathroom. The bathroom walls are a pure and eerie white, each hard surface is completely sterilized and colorless. No wall hangings or windows, the light is artificial, unflattering and unkind to my already throbbing headache. I blow past the large bathroom mirror desperately trying not to glimpse myself in it, I'm sure the last thing I need is a reminder of how undoubtedly horrid I must look by now.

Considering that I might just have to stay here a bit longer that I originally anticipated I help myself to the large bathtub, washing the dried mixture of grime, blood and sweat off my body. I emerge from what was the steamy clear water leaving only the now cold and grey memory of it's former glory. I rap my self in one of the pure white and unbelievably soft towels neatly folded and laid out for me. Defeated, I inspect my face closely in the mirror, picking the last few splinters of scabby cement from my face and washing the small blotches of blood that spring up from the tiny pits they leave behind.

Walking briskly from room to room I reach the dressing room that is attached to the bedroom. Its small and fairly unimpressive in comparison to the rest of my living quarters, slightly larger than the average walk in closet its not stuffed full of expensive, elegant and revealing gowns as I irrationally feared it would be. Instead the closet is only semi-occupied with surprisingly plain, all black cloths. Satisfied that I don't have to wear my dirty, torn cloths that I left in a careless wad back on the bathroom floor I quickly pick out and thrown on a pair of plain black jeans and t-shirt, of course fitted to my exact measurements.

I carelessly comb my wet and tangled hair with my fingers as I return to the bedroom and flop on the ridiculously large and comfortable bed. I didn't realize how exhausted I am until I faded remarkably quickly into sleep.

It's a numb, dark sleep. It almost feels as though your half asleep in the Matrix. it's an almost indescribable hollow feeling, as though your totally aware of yourself inside your mind, you can think exceptionally clearly, almost normally, but your body is numb and unresponsive. I cant explain why it feels like this, it just always has.

There's an unexplainable spinning feeling inside my stomach that signals my awaking. I recognize the sound of knuckles on wood as I'm jerked awake from my eerie half sleep. I gain my feet too quickly and realize almost immediately that was a mistake, my head spins violently along with my stomach as my eyes dart about my surroundings franticly searching for the source of the noise.

He leans on the doorway, uncrossing his arms as he straightens himself. Thin and gangly, but he's not the Mero and he isn't built like a guard, nor dose he carry himself like one.

"Easy now, don't hurt yourself." he spits slowly eyeing me. I inwardly shudder wonder how long he's been standing there watching me sleep with that same, dumb grin on his face.  
I open my mouth but he's quicker.

"The Merovingian requests an audience with you immediately" He says quickly and business like as he intently straightens his jacket .

"But I'm sure he wont mind if you straighten yourself out a bit" he smirks glancing up and gesturing toward my hair.

In my panic I had forgotten the disheveled state of my hair, which I had lazily attempted to comb out with my finger as I was too weary to rummage through the bathroom to find a proper comb. It had now dried and molded into a messy and tangled lump in my sleep. I realize that my patients is already running extremely thin even before the Merovingian has had his chance at me, and that's not promising.


End file.
